


SuperNewGirl

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: New Girl, Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Did I Mention Crack?, Gen, Love at First Sight, Or not, Winston wants to be a hunter, guilty moonwalking, or just dress like one, schmidt wants to do Sam's hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:45:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1209805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean work a case in Los Angeles and run into the New Girl gang.  Dean has a sudden (and short lived) belief in love at first sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SuperNewGirl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ganseyiii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ganseyiii/gifts).



It was a perfect example of shitty Winchester luck.  They’d taken a low level ghost hunt in southern California motivated more by escaping the endless Kansas winter than anything else.  But any thoughts of warm, sunny weather were washed away by the unseasonable cold and drenching rain that had moved in off the Pacific.  Adding to the misery, their lead in Los Angeles, so promising when they’d left the cold and snow of Kansas, turned out to be a dead end.  Looking to regroup, they stopped at a bar called Clyde's.  It was a bit of a step up from the dives they usually frequented, but the drinks were cold and the bartender was a friendly enough guy who introduced himself as Nick.  Knowing bartenders trafficked in information, they asked him pointed questions to see if he'd seen or heard anything odd and while he'd been open and forthcoming up to that point, it was clear that he was hedging now.  

 

 

“Uh, nope.  Nothing like that.  Man, that sounds really weird.  I would totally have remembered that.  Nope.  Nothing.  Ok, I should go wash some glasses.”  He backed away from them still rambling, and Sam and Dean looked at each other. 

 

“Did he just _moonwalk_ away from us?” Sam looked incredulous. 

 

“Hell, this is L.A.  It’s probably a law to dance everywhere you go,” said Dean.  “But, yeah, if there’s such a thing as guilty moonwalking, that was it.”

 

Nick was now speaking to a well-dressed man at the other end of the bar and despite their attempts to look casual, constant furtive glances made it clear they were discussing Sam and Dean.

 

“I thought everyone here was an actor,” said Dean, “but these guys suck.”  The brothers got up and walked to where Nick stood, his eyes darting with panic. 

 

“Ok, we may be new in town, but it’s damn clear you’re lying to us.” Dean barely had to go into bad cop mode to intimidate these guys.

 

Sam introduced himself to the second man, who was named Winston, and explained again why they were there.   To their surprise, Winston didn’t share any of Nick’s reluctance.

 

“Oh yeah, our roommate totally saw something like that!  I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you all about it when she gets back.”

 

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, surprised at this sudden cooperation.  Dean looked at Nick, “You good with that, Billie Jean?”

 

Nick frowned and sighed, looking like someone had kicked his dog.  “Sure, why not?” he muttered, “I was clearly pushing my luck as it was.”

 

To make sure Nick didn’t try to ditch them, they decided to wait until his shift was done and go meet the roommate together.  Sam and Dean moved to a booth in the corner and Winston unexpectedly slid in next to them.

 

“Hunters, huh?  Like ghost busters?  Only you guys dress a lot cooler than the coveralls they wore in the movie.”  He eyed the multiple layers the brothers wore.  “All rugged and stuff.  Man, I bet the ladies love that.” 

 

“Yeah, it’s a dream come true.”  Sam rolled his eyes but Winston didn’t notice the sarcasm.

 

“If you need any help while we wait.  I’d be glad to show you around,” he offered brightly.

 

“Thanks, but not necessary.”

 

“Are you sure?  Because I know this city like the back of my hand. “  He held out the back of his hand as if to punctuate his claim.  Sam and Dean exchanged a look of _what the hell_?  “Well, maybe not the back of my hand, but I have a maps program on my phone that we could use.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to tap at it. His friendly smile dwindled as he tapped more frantically.  “Oh shit.  Looks like I accidentally reset my passcode again.”  Still staring at his phone, he got up and wandered back to the bar yelling to Nick for help while Sam and Dean stared after him. 

**** 

When the four of them arrived at the loft, Winston went into his room to change from his suit into jeans and a t shirt, while Nick and the Winchesters sat in strained silence in the living room.  When the front door opened, Dean and Sam were on their feet, anxious to get this over with. 

 

“That’s Schmidt,” said Nick with obvious relief.

 

“Wrong roommate,” said Winston and he jumped up to introduce Schmidt before asking, “Is it cold in here?”  He disappeared back into his room without waiting for an answer.

 

Schmidt greeted them politely but there was definitely something shifty about him.  Dean didn’t like the way he was looking at Sam, the way he was circling around him, getting closer each time.  He casually put his hand in his pocket in case the situation escalated but he was finding it hard to concentrate with all the activity in the room.  Nick had started pacing back and forth in the kitchen and Winston wandered back in, now sporting a henley over his t-shirt.  Despite the distractions, when he saw Schmidt reach for Sam’s neck, Dean was instantly on his feet, his gun aimed and ready.

 

“Just back away, dude,” he growled.

 

Schmidt squealed and jumped back before rounding on Dean with a scandalized look.   “What the hell is wrong with you?  Did no one ever teach you manners?  You don’t just pull a gun on someone who has invited you into his home.“  Dean was confused by his lack of concern and he felt a headache starting to build behind his eyes.  “But you know what?” Schmidt continued.  “ _That_ isn’t even the real crime.  The real crime is right here in front of us and not a one of you is acknowledging it.”  Dean kept his gun pointed at Schmidt, who made a face of utter disgust.

 

“His _hair_!  Look at it!  It’s got so much potential and he’s just letting it languish there.  Look at the volume, the natural highlights.  It’s a crime, I tell you.”   Schmidt was now leading a dazed looking Sam into the bathroom, stopping to eye Dean along the way.

 

“Now _yours_ is excellent.  Just enough style that it looks effortless. What is that?  Pomade?  Sculpting mud?” Jesus, did Schmidt just try to _smell_ his hair?  Dean jumped back. 

 

“If you so much as touch me, you’ll be grooming yourself with hooks from now on.”  He thought he heard Schmidt mutter _diva_ as he and Sam disappeared into the bathroom. 

 

Dean turned back to Nick who was still standing in the kitchen.  Winston had disappeared yet again. 

 

Dean blinked hard a couple of time, trying to orient himself.  Something was definitely off here. Maybe shapeshifters? Or Djinns? Nothing in this loft was making any sense. 

Before he could come to a definitive conclusion, Nick pulled out his chiming phone and checked the message.  “That’s her, she’s on her way.”  He sighed.  “Look, I’m sorry I was so weird back at the bar, but Jess and I just recently got together and for the life of me I have no idea why.  Like, part of me thinks maybe she hit her head and this is all some sort of undiagnosed concussion reaction.  So the last thing I need is for her to meet you guys—I mean, you _do_ have mirrors where you come from, right?  Why would I invite the equivalent of male models--wait, no, male models _who hunt evil_ , because that’s both accurate _and_ ten thousand times sexier—here to talk to her?  Yes, I know it’s all about stopping this ghost and saving the world or whatever, but what about _me_?  I’m in a really delicate place here, relationship-wise.”

 

Dean was saved from having to answer this question by two things: Winston walking back into the kitchen (this time with a flannel shirt layered on top of the henley) and the front door opening.

 

Nick walked over to Jess, managing to block her view of Dean as he kissed her hello.  Finally he stepped out of the way and introduced them.  Jess stared at Dean, who swore he heard her nervously whisper-sing “Who you gonna call…ghostbusters” to herself.  He shook her hand and realized that this wasn’t going to end well for Nick.  He was clearly out his league with this woman, who was having an effect on Dean like he’d never before experienced.  He excused himself to go get Sam, feeling ever so slightly light-headed. 

 

In the bathroom, Schmidt rummaged through a basket of hair care products while a flat iron heated on a shelf over the sink.  Sam was standing rigidly with his hands clenched, the nails of his right hand digging into the skin of his left palm.  Without a word, Dean tossed Schmidt out and closed the door behind him.  He turned to his brother.

 

“Ok, first thing?  That guy may be a nightmare, but he’s totally real, so give your hand a break, ok?”  Sam looked at him with relief in his eyes, letting his hands fall to his sides.

 

“Second thing.”  Dean took a deep breath.  “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

 

This was enough to drag Sam fully back to the present. “What are you talking about?  What the hell even is this place?”

 

“I don’t know!” Dean sounded desperate.  “I mean she’s not even really my type—“

 

“Because she’s fully clothed and sober?”  If Dean weren’t so offended he might be impressed with how quickly his brother had gone from sheer terror to sass.

 

“I said hello to her and it was like…” Dean gestured vaguely, a far away look in his eyes.  “I actually got fucking dizzy when she shook my hand.  That’s not normal, right? “

 

As Sam watched, Dean found a washcloth, ran it under cold water and held it to his forehead. 

 

“I need you to come back out there with me and keep me from making a fool out of myself in front of her.” 

 

“Yeah, ok.  Of course.”  Sam was getting more and more suspicious that something was really off around here.  Could Dean have been slipped a love potion?  His best bet, he decided, was to go along with Dean and play it cool.

 

They walked back into the main room, Dean tugging on Sam’s sleeve to whisper, “She’s got that whole sexy school girl thing going on, you know with the tie and the short skirt.  Maybe that’s what did me in.”

 

Sam gently pushed him away, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism.  Jess and Nick were now sitting on the couch.  Sam introduced himself while Dean hovered somewhere behind him.  Sam felt an elbow in his side and he turned to see Dean making double thumbs up at him, a giddy smile on his face. 

 

Immediately, Sam realized two things: One, there was no love potion involved and two, it was going to be a long, awkward drive home.

 

He asked Jess a few questions, taking in the way her dark hair contrasted with her striking blue eyes.  He noted the dimple in her chin and the way she squinted and tilted her head as she tried to recall what she’d seen.   Sam had one desperate thought blaring in his brain as she talked: _Please, please, PLEASE let Dean figure this out on his own_. 

 

“Maybe it would help if we went back outside and I could show you exactly where it was,” said Jess.

 

“That’s a great idea,” added Winston, who was having trouble getting his beer to his mouth now that he’d added a plaid shirt and a leather jacket to his ensemble.

 

It was raining harder than ever so Jess went to get a jacket.  They stood near the door waiting until she came out of her room, a tan trench coat over her schoolgirl outfit.  Sam braved a look at Dean, who had blanched, his face clearly saying _I fucked up_.

 

They rode downstairs in the elevator, Sam trying to make casual conversation while Dean seethed silently.

 

“How about I take it from here?” he offered casually when they reached the street and Dean nodded tersely without making eye contact.

 

****

Sam got into the Impala to find Dean sitting, hands clenched on the wheel.  Sam avoided eye contact as he tried to think of something neutral to say, maybe something that would feign his ignorance, but instead he threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in ages.  He didn’t care that Dean looked ready to murder him.  He laughed until tears ran down his face and his breath came out in high-pitched squeaks.  Hearing these sounds come out of his sasquatch of a brother finally broke Dean’s icy glare and they both sat there, the car still parked, laughing. Finally Dean spoke, his threat somewhat undermined by the look of horror in his eyes.

 

“Not a fucking word.  Ever.  You understand me?”  

 


End file.
